Mixing Like Oil and Water
by Lillia-Lillia
Summary: Percy and Oliver mix like oil and water, doomed to spend their entire Hogwarts careers hating each others' guts. Or can time make friends out of two very different people? UPDATE: T rating starts in chapter 6
1. Chapter 1--Instant Repulsion

**AN: **I always imagined that Oliver and Percy would not have too much in common. This is unfortunate because the were stuck in the same dorm room for years. This fic will explore the nature of their natural animosity towards one another. But in due time, it will develop into Percy/Oliver slash. But as they are still children for now, it'll have to wait. Rating will raise when applicable.

Inspired by Forever Siriusly Sirius "The Hate to Love Multi-Chap Challenge." Enjoy!

**Summary: **Percy and Oliver mix like oil and water, doomed to spend their entire Hogwarts careers hating each others' guts. Or can time make friends out of two very different people?

**Disclaimer:** All things Harry Potter belong to JKR

**Mixing Like Oil and Water**

**Chapter 1—Instant Repulsion**

* * *

From the moment the train pulled into Hogsmeade station, Oliver Wood knew he wasn't going to like that Percy Weasley. The twit looked like a bespectacled red-headed string bean, for Merlin's sake. Oliver bristled as he listened to the prat talk in a loud, pompous voice to some nerdy-looking girl as they marched down the platform. His dorky blonde friend seemed to like him well enough anyways, and no doubt liked his stupid horn-rimmed glasses and ridiculous nasally voice.

Oliver couldn't stand the sight of Weasley any longer. He stomped past him, shoving him hard, nearly causing the redhead to take a tumble. "Have fun in Ravenclaw, prat," he snarled over his shoulder as he fell into stride with two pretty girls he'd met on the train.

Percy regained his balance and adjusted his spectacles, glaring after the big oaf who'd knocked into him. "Is that—is that a _first year_?" he whispered to Penelope Clearwater, his blonde companion.

"Yes. That's Oliver Wood, that is. His father played for the Falmouth Falcons for years, you know?"

Percy bristled, narrowing his eyes at the broad-shouldered figure getting further and further ahead in the crowd. He didn't like the look of that Oliver boy, gallivanting down the platform like he owned the place. "Who cares who his dad is? He's probably rubbish at Quidditch himself."

Penelope smirked, shaking her blonde hair out of her face. Up ahead, Oliver had grabbed onto one of the awning posts lining the platform and was swinging himself around it to the applause and delight of a few onlookers. "Fat chance. He looks pretty athletic to me."

Percy scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. Penelope tried laying a comforting hand on him, but he shook her off. He didn't say another word as they clambered into a fleet of little boats and set sail across the lake to the magnificent Hogwarts castle.

* * *

"Weasley, Percy."

There were only two first years left to be Sorted; the nerdy, red-headed cuss and the attractive, sturdily-built brunette. They stood a good distance apart with their backs to each other, each seemingly trying to ignore the other. When Percy's name was called, Oliver shot him one parting glance and mouthed the word _Ravenclaw_.

But the Hat declared "GRYFFINDOR!" just moments after he dropped it over his face. As he proudly strode to his table, he caught eyes with Penelope, who had become a Ravenclaw herself. His older brothers applauded him and led him to the seat they'd saved at the Gryffindor table.

"Wood, Oliver."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Percy groaned, dropping his head against the table. Bill Weasley patted his little brother on the back and gave him a quizzical look. "What's the matter Perce?" But Percy shook his head dismissively.

After Headmaster Dumbledore gave his welcome-back speech, the feast began. Percy mingled with a few other Gryffindors, but mostly looked forward to his big brothers giving him the lowdown on the place. This _was_ his first night in Hogwarts after all; a momentous occasion. But to his horror, he found his brother Charlie deep in conversation with Oliver Wood.

"W—W—What?" he spluttered.

Bill smiled and ruffled his little brother's hair. He seemed to have put the pieces together. "Aw, is that boy your rival, Perce? Don't worry, Charlie only wants to talk Quidditch with him. You're still our favorite firstie."

Percy scowled and harrumphed. Oliver Wood was flashing Charlie a dazzling smile, his eyebrows quirking expressively as he listened to the older boy talk. At one point, his chocolate brown eyes briefly flashed over to Percy, just long enough to give him a knowing smirk before turning his attention back to Charlie.

Bill wrapped a comforting arm around Percy's small shoulders. "C'mon, Perce, try to enjoy yourself. I'll tell you what. When the Prefects take you guys to the dorms later, I'll make sure you get the best bed, okay?"

Percy peeked up at his brother, turning the offer over in his mind. After a moment, a smile crossed his little face. "Oh, okay then!"

* * *

Following a delicious dessert of treacle tarts, apple pies and ice cream, the Prefects stood up to collect their Houses. Percy allowed himself to be herded up the great marble staircase and through many winding corridors until they arrived at the famous portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Password?" she trilled.

Bill answered with the bizarre response of "Titillations."

The Gryffindor Common Room was everything Percy expected it to be and more. The crimson and gold decor was beautiful, and the squashy armchairs and couches looked homey and inviting. But Bill was leading them through the circular room to a winding staircase. Up and up they went until they reached the third door, emblazoned with 'First Years' in gold lettering. Eagerly, Percy and his new roommates piled into the room.

As Percy scanned the room, his eyes instantly fell on the bed he wanted. It was on the right-hand side, nearest to a large window with a beautiful view of the Forbidden Forest. He found his trunk in the center of the room and dragged it over. But just as he was flopping onto the bed, Oliver Wood strode over and kicked his trunk.

"I don't think so, Weasley. This bed is mine."

Percy set his jaw, ready to tell Oliver off, but once the brunette was right in front of him, he thought better of it. Oliver was easily a head taller than him and to say he was more muscular would be the understatement of the century. It didn't help that Oliver's hands were balled into fists and that he was looking down at Percy murderously.

"Go on, Weasley. That's your bed over there." He jutted his chin to the unclaimed four-poster closest to the door.

Before Percy could respond, Bill stepped over to the two boys and laid a hand on Oliver's shoulder. The larger first year glanced at the hand and then up into the sixteen year-old's face. Bill smiled down at him benignly. "I believe that bed over there is yours, Mr. Wood."

Oliver crossed his arms over his chest like a petulant child. "You're only making me move because he's your brother!"

"I would make him move if you claimed this bed first. But Mr. Weasley, brother of mine or not, was here first."

Oliver opened his mouth to argue, but shut it quickly when Bill quirked an eyebrow at him. He shot a nasty glare to Bill and Percy each before grabbing his trunk and hauling it to the foot of the other bed. As soon as Oliver's back was turned, Bill looked down at his brother and winked. A large smile spread across Percy's face.

* * *

Oliver and Percy's relationship did not improve in the coming weeks, though they did their best to avoid each other. They never ate meals together, never studied together and sat as far apart as possible both in class and the Great Hall. When they did have the misfortune of crossing paths, they glared and moved on, not wanting to lose Gryffindor any points through fighting. But, as expected, their tension-laden truce could only last so long.

Flying lessons were faced with much eagerness and bravado amongst the first years. Despite his upbringing, Percy never had much of a desire to fly; something which disappointed his elder brother Charlie immensely. Oliver, on the other hand, never shut up about Quidditch. He was developing a reputation around the school as a Quidditch fanatic. Much to Percy's dismay, Charlie had taken a liking to Oliver. Though Oliver was too young to play on the House team, Charlie saw potential in him. The older boy would doubtlessly be Captain the following year, so he spent his free time down on the pitch with Oliver, the first year hovering by the goals on a school broom, blocking the Quaffles Charlie tried to put past him.

The first flying lesson was a nightmare for Percy. When he did manage to get up on his broom, he felt unsteady and terrified. In contrast, Oliver was having the time of his life fluttering ten or so feet above him. "Oh, _well done_, Wood!" Madam Hooch had cried happily before directing him to help his classmates with hovering. Oliver made a beeline for a gaggle of pretty girls on the ground who all looked very delighted to have his help.

After two weeks of flying lessons, everyone in the class had made remarkable progress except Percy. Madam Hooch said he was gripping the broom too tightly with his thighs and needed to easy up if he intended to fly. But Percy was just too scared to relax.

Bill had seen how stressed his little brother was about his poor flying skills, so at breakfast one morning, he slipped Percy a small vial. "It's a Calming Draught," he whispered in response to Percy's quizzical look. "Take it before your flying lesson today. It should help."

That afternoon, Percy downed his potion while walking to the lawn. A warm tingle seemed to radiate to his extremities, making him feel clear-headed and prepared for the lesson. When Madam Hooch started the lesson, Percy confidently clambered onto his broom and kicked off hard. Up, up, up into the air he soared, the wind ruffling his red hair and whistling in his ears. He was higher than anyone in the class now, even Oliver. Percy was grinning. This wasn't so hard after all! He leaned forward on his broom to zoom ahead.

If he hadn't been oblivious to Madam Hooch below, he would have heard the witch screaming for him to "Come down this instant, young man! The atmosphere is too turbulent for you at that altitude!"

But he figured that out for himself soon enough when his broom lurched, bucking Percy into a forward somersault. He screamed as he dangled a good fifty feet in the air, hanging by on arm. '_Don't look down, don't look down!_' he told himself, terror flooding his veins.

Three streaks flashed through the air before him and he managed to peek through one eye to see them. The first was Madam Hooch, hovering below him to boost his legs up. The second was Ophelia Rondeau, a Slytherin _girl_, no less, who went to hold his broom steady. The third, to his horror, was Oliver Wood, who extended a hand to Percy.

Reluctantly, the redhead took Oliver's hand and moments later, he found himself seated back on his broom. He was towed to the ground where Madam Hooch hollered at him about carelessness and stupidity. She took twenty points from Gryffindor and it was the first time he'd lost his House any points. Percy was mortified, but he managed to meekly mumble out a thank-you to his three saviors.

* * *

Oliver was an absolute menace later that day in Potions class. They were doubling with the Hufflepuffs and Oliver wasted no time filling the badgers in on what happened during flying class. "You shoulda seen the great prat," he whispered to a black-headed Hufflepuff girl. "Dangling up there like a complete fool, he was."

Percy trembled with anger as he watched Oliver set his cauldron to simmer before heading to a table of Hufflepuff boys, doubtlessly to repeat the story. It was bad enough that Percy required saving, but did Oliver really have to go around rubbing it in? Percy looked down at the porcupine quills in his hands. He was just _so_ mad at Oliver. _So _mad. He wished he could teach him a lesson. A smirk crossed the redhead's face as he slipped out of his seat, his heart pounding with what he was about to do. Normally, Percy was a very well-behaved child, but Oliver had a way of unleashing his dark side. He stalked over to Oliver's cauldron, making sure Professor Snape's back was turned, and chucked in the handful of porcupine quills.

Instantly, the potion began hissing and belching large puffs of green smoke that smelled like dirty socks. Percy squatted nonchalantly by the student supply cupboard, watching Oliver from the corner of his eye. "What the—" the brunette cried, his head snapping to attention as his potion sizzled and fumed. He ran to his cauldron, but it Snape caught him by the arm and threw him back.

"Hit the floor!" snapped the Potions professor and the class obeyed, flattening themselves against cold stone, trying to dodge the toxic fumes.

Snape stayed cool and sprung into action, banishing the ruined potion with an _Evanesco_ and swirling his wand until the fumes constricted themselves into a tight ball the size of a marble. He bent beside Oliver, who looked quite dazed indeed, and pulled up on one of his eyelids as if checking for a pupil response.

"Class dismissed," Snape snarled, his fingers prodding Oliver's neck in search of a pulse.

As Percy got to his feet, he looked down at the lifeless form of Oliver Wood His stomach sank to the floor. He hadn't meant for this to happen! He never meant to harm Oliver. Deeply ashamed, he slinked to the door. But before he could leave, Professor Snape's icy voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Except for you, Weasley."

* * *

**Hope you liked it! Please review, as I find them very helpful.**


	2. Chapter 2--Detention

**AN:** Fun fact: The detention described in this chapter is a punishment my mom used to use whenever my brother and I fought. It's kind of funny to think of it now, but I promise you it was _horrible_ in my youth!

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the property of JKR

**Mixing Like Oil and Water**

**Chapter 2—Detention**

* * *

Oliver Wood was out of commission. Professor Snape knelt beside the splayed-out boy, rubbing his knuckles into the teenager's sternum. He cursed under his breath when Oliver didn't even flinch in response to the sternal rub. The professor lifted the boy off the floor, and he hung like a ragdoll in Snape's arms, limbs dangling limply and uselessly at his sides. In a billow of robes, Snape stalked out of the dungeons, a trembling Percy Weasley following in his wake.

"Professor, I—" the traumatized redhead began, but the teacher cut him off.

"Save it, Weasley. You are in very deep trouble."

That much was highly apparent, but Percy was smart enough to shut his mouth as he jogged after Snape. They weaved through the castle at a brisk pace. At one point, they passed a Slytherin Prefect, and Snape wasted no time in delegating a task to her.

"Hobbs. Get Professor McGonagall to the Infirmary straight away."

The girl glanced at Percy before her eyes lingered at the lifeless form of Oliver in Professor Snape's arms. "What hap—"

"We're not having a little _chat_ over tea and biscuits, Hobbs," Professor Snape snarled. "Go get Professor McGonagall _now_!" The girl blanched and nodded, running off in the opposite direction.

Minutes later, they rounded a corner and Snape wordlessly spelled the doors to the Hospital Wing open. The matron, Madam Pomfrey, was just inside, tending to a rather nasty gash on the side of a boy's face. She sprang up at once at the sight of Professor Snape. An experienced mediwitch, Pomfrey triaged the situation in a matter of seconds. She left her gash-patient without a backward glance and directed Snape to the nearest bed. "Over here," she ordered, and the professor deposited the boy with a small thump.

Snape stood beside Pomfrey, peering down at Oliver. "Non-apneic with a pulse," he told her as she groped Oliver's neck. "Also unresponsive to painful stimuli."

"Test used?" She asked curtly.

"Sternal rub."

"Very well." The matron didn't look too worried about it as she raised her wand to draw complex patterns over Oliver's form. She chanted complex phrases under her breath. A shadow settled over Oliver's torso, and moments later, puffs of greenish mist seeped out of his pores.

Seeing that Oliver was in capable hands, Snape rounded on Percy. He grabbed the boy by the arm and threw him into a chair beside Oliver's bed. Percy was sure Snape was going to slap him silly, but was saved by Professor McGonagall, who sprinted into the ward with the gusto of a much younger woman. Her bun was slightly disheveled from running and her eyes darted nervously around the room, surveying the scene before her.

"Severus, Miss Hobbs said something bad—_what happened_?"

"_This_ little brat happened," Snape hissed, jerking his head at Percy, who shrank into his chair. He shook like a leaf under Snape's hateful gaze. "He threw something volatile into a burn salve concoction. The resulting fumes were noxious and the ensuing explosion could have easily blinded Mr. Wood."

McGonagall stared at Percy, a combination of shock and outrage apparent on her face. She couldn't believe that a boy as quiet and well-behaved as Percy Weasley would pull such a malicious attack on a fellow student; and a fellow _Gryffindor_ to boot! As she tried to address him, she was almost at a loss for words. "I am stunned, Mr. Weasley. I'm disappointed and horrified that you would conduct yourself in such a manner."

Percy hung his head in shame. His eyes burned, threatening to betray him with tears. "I know, Professor, I feel just awful. I really never meant to—"

But he was cut short by a brown-headed blur knocking him to the floor. Apparently, Pomfrey's magic worked wonders because Oliver Wood was alive and well and sitting on Percy's chest. A furious glint sparkled in the brunette's eyes. Wands and magic long forgotten, Oliver drew back his fist and socked the redhead hard in the jaw. Percy yelped as small stars erupted in his vision as the taste of copper flooded his mouth.

Oliver's angry voice brought him back to reality. "You tried to _kill_ me, you lunatic? That's how you thank me for saving your _life_?"

"No, no I—"

Glasses askew, Percy held his hands over his face. He fully expected another blow, but it didn't come. Professor Snape had pulled Oliver off of him and was restraining the struggling boy around the waist while he kicked and fought against his teacher. McGonagall grabbed Percy by the front of his robes and yanked him to his feet, restraining him as well, although Percy had no intentions of retaliating.

"Get yourself under control this instant, Mr. Wood, or I will put you in a full body-bind so strong, you won't wake up until Christmas," hissed Professor Snape, who was clearly nearing the end of his already very limited patience.

Oliver took the threat seriously, because a moment later, he was once again hanging limp in Snape's arms. When he was sure Oliver was under control, Snape dispensed with him none to gently, throwing the brunette back onto his bed. McGonagall steered Percy back to his chair.

After a few moments to calm down, Pomfrey set about fixing Percy up, since the redhead was doused in his own blood. While she charmed his teeth back into alignment, McGonagall questioned Oliver on what he meant, exactly, by his previous outburst. Unable to speak due to Madam Pomfrey's fingers being in his mouth, Percy had no choice but to listen while Oliver recounted the details of the flying lesson fiasco.

When Oliver was done, a very disappointed McGonagall rounded on Percy. "Is this true, Mr. Weasley?"

Not wanting to get into any more trouble than he was already in, Percy nodded sadly, his eyes downcast.

"Forty points from Gryffindor, Weasley, for your carelessness in flying and your recklessness in Potions."

Percy fidgeted with his robes, his cheeks burning in shame. He hated knowing his Head of House was so furious with him. "Yes, Professor."

"You will also report to my office—"

"Wait," Snape interjected. McGonagall shot him a withering glare at being interrupted, but let him continue regardless. "Since the boy destroyed my lab, _I_ would like to oversee his detention."

"Very well," McGonagall conceded. "You will report to Professor Snape's office—"

She looked to him, and the Potions Master helpfully added, "Tonight at 7:30."

"Tonight at 7:30 for your detention," she agreed, rounding on Oliver. "Both of you, however, will report to my office tomorrow at 7:30 for a detention with me. And Mr. Wood, you have lost your House twenty points for striking Mr. Weasley."

Always being a stickler for the rules, Percy felt he got exactly what he deserved. Oliver, however, thought his punishment was a little too severe. If Oliver were a less brazen boy, he would have checked his tongue before arguing with Professor McGonagall.

"But Professor, it wasn't _my _fault! It was all Weasley! He almost _killed_ me!"

McGonagall was having none of it. "I neither appreciate nor will I tolerate your whinging, Mr. Wood. And you know full well that fighting is never permitted at Hogwarts. If I hear another word about your punishment, I will dock you a round fifty points!"

With that, Oliver fell silent, folding his rather burly arms over his chest, a downright sullen look marring his handsome features. After another comment about how disappointed she was, McGonagall and Snape exited the ward, leaving the boys with Madam Pomfrey to patch them up. Percy was completely grief-stricken over his actions. And he felt a hundred times worse when he tried to apologize to Oliver, but the other boy was having none of it.

"You're such a twat, Percy. Go away."

Sadly, Percy dragged himself to the other end of the ward so Oliver wouldn't even have to look at him.

* * *

As expected, detention with Professor Snape was a miserable affair. The Potions Master had Percy dismembering newts and sorting their body parts into different jars. There was one for the eyes, one for spines and one for feet. It was truly disgusting, and it put Percy off his food.

But Snape's detention was nothing compared to the horrors McGonagall had planned for the following evening.

When they arrived at her office, Oliver wasn't any closer to forgiving Percy. He ignored the redhead as he stepped into the office. Stern Professor McGonagall sat behind a sturdy oak desk, long fingers folded neatly on top. She nodded to them in acknowledgement before aiming her wand at the two wooden, straight-backed chairs in front of her desk. The boys watched the chairs spring into the air with a fancy spin before falling into place facing each other, a mere nine inches apart. The boys looked from the chairs to their professor expectantly. She fixed them with a small, bitter smile.

"Sit."

They hesitated for a moment, but Oliver was the first to move. He tried to pull one of the chairs back, but it wouldn't budge. Surprised, he looked to McGonagall for some sort of an explanation.

"I have applied a sticking charm to the bottoms of the chairs. They will not move," she offered. "Sit."

Reluctantly, Oliver plunked himself into one of the chairs. Percy slid into the seat across from him. To both boys' horror, their knees were touching. They both stared at their professor in rapt attention, wondering what was the meaning of all this.

"Now," McGonagall began. "Yesterday, I was beyond appalled with the both of you. You acted like children and conducted yourselves in a manner that does not merit wearing the crest of Godric Gryffindor. As members of the noblest House in the school, you need to stand by one another. I'm not asking you to be friends, but you will need to learn tolerance. As you will be sharing a dorm room and many classes over the next seven years, you must learn how to coexist without fighting. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Professor," they chorused.

"Excellent. I'm glad we are all on the same page. Now, for the remainder of your detention, you will not move from your seats and keep the fidgeting to a minimum. Furthermore, you will hold each other's hands until the time is up."

A brief moment of silence followed those words while the boys stared at her. Then Oliver yelped, "We have to do _what_?" and at the same moment, Percy gasped, "I _beg_ your pardon?"

"You heard me correctly, gentlemen."

"I—I don't understand. This is ridiculous!" Oliver hollered, folding his arms across his chest.

"When you are done acting like a petulant child, Mr. Wood, you can take Mr. Weasley's hands. The moment you do so, you will be closer to ending this detention. Should you refuse, we can stay here all night. Merlin knows I have enough work to do." And with that, she pulled a large stack of essays toward her for grading.

Mortified, Oliver finally locked eyes with Percy. Without speaking, his expression seemed to scream, '_What do we do_?' Percy shook his head slightly as if to reply, '_I dunno_.' He glanced over at McGonagall. The stern witch was already busy perusing her first essay.

Unwilling to make the first move, Oliver kept his arms wrapped tightly across his chest. Percy closed his eyes, breathing a deep sigh. He summoned every ounce of Gryffindor courage he knew he must possess before extending a hand, palm up, across his knees. Though Oliver had his head turned with his nose in the air, his eye caught Percy's movement. A moment passed before the brunette gathered courage of his own. Slowly, he reached out, placing his fingertips on Percy's.

The moment their fingers touched, a large purple clock appeared out of nowhere, hovering high above McGonagall's desk. The witch didn't look up at it, though a faint smile danced on her lips. The boys watched as the clock started ticking backwards from one hour.

Begrudgingly, Oliver found and held Percy's eyes. They shared a brief moment of camaraderie, knowing they'd only have to suffer through the next hour and it'd be all over. With a deep breath, Oliver slid his hand along Percy's grasping him in a true handshake. Percy returned Oliver's knowing look. McGonagall's angle was clear. She was forcing the boys to unite. The only way they'd get out of the detention in a timely manner was by working together.

True to her word, McGonagall released the boys promptly when the hour was up. Instantly they sprang away from each, wiping sweaty hands on their trousers. McGonagall gave them a small smile as they stretched their stiff joints.

"I hope you two have learned a valuable lesson in tolerance and coexistence. I never want to hear another word about your fighting. Understood?" They nodded fervently. "Excellent. You are dismissed."

With that, they wasted no time sprinting from her office to Gryffindor Tower. "Titillations!" they shouted as they skidded to a halt in front of the Fat Lady.

Once inside, Oliver turned to address Percy. The redhead smiled, as he was sure his classmate was going to offer him some sort of uneasy truce. Naturally, he was shocked when Oliver shoved him roughly onto one of the sofas. "Listen, Weasley," he snarled. "You never speak of that detention to anyone, you get me?"

A very taken aback Percy nodded quickly from his supine position on the sofa.

"You and me, we're not friends, you dig?" Oliver continued. "I promise you I'll do my damndest to stay away from you, as I don't fancy repeating that detention. I hope you'll do the same for me. We got a deal?"

Again, Percy nodded, his heart pounding as he watched Oliver stalk off to the dormitories.

* * *

**Thanks for making it all the way down here. Please review, since it helps my morale!**


	3. Chapter 3--Quidditch

**AN:** It was brought to my attention that James Potter was a Chaser in canon; a detail which I forgot. Please excuse my reference to him as a Seeker in this story. And now, the rivalry between Oliver and Percy continues…

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the property of JKR

**Mixing Like Oil and Water**

**Chapter 3—Quidditch **

* * *

Oliver and Percy continued a rather strained relationship for the remainder of their first year. Both boys, Oliver in particular, had been extremely mortified by Professor McGonagall's detention, and neither wished to have a repeat sentence. They worked hard to avoid each other and managed to do so quite well. Percy became close friends with his Ravenclaw counterpart Penelope Clearwater and spent most of his time with a group of Ravenclaw friends. Oliver quickly established himself as a jock and became close friends with several Quidditch players, including one Charlie Weasley.

A warm June evening found Charlie and Oliver down on the Quidditch pitch tossing the Quaffle around and blowing off steam.

"You'll be a shoe-in next term, Oliver, I'm sure of it," Charlie told him after Oliver turned a perfect arabesque midair and kicked the red ball halfway down the pitch. It was a well-known fact around the school that Oliver was dying to play Keeper for the Gryffindor team. "Honestly, we haven't had any decent talent in the Keeper position since '82 with Linda O'Malley. It's destroyed our game. With you playing, we actually have a shot at the Quidditch Cup."

Oliver beamed, diving sharply left to snag the Quaffle Charlie shot at the lowest post. "You're giving me a big head, Weasley. What about yourself, eh? They say you're the best Seeker talent since James Potter himself."

Charlie bowed his head modestly. "I do try—ha! Gotcha!" He hastily threw a zinger right through the center post. Oliver cursed and flew after the Quaffle.

"What I don't get," the brunette said, head-butting the ball back to Charlie, "is why your brother can't be as cool as you."

"Who, Perce? Ah, give him a chance to loosen up, will ya? He's a good kid, really." Charlie hovered midair for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face. "Though I do wish he liked Quidditch a bit more. It would have given us something to bond over. Hell," the older boy threw caution to the winds as he took another shot on Oliver (which was promptly denied, of course), "I sometimes wish he was more like you."

Oliver's mouth dropped open. He was very moved by Charlie's words. "Hey, wow, thanks mate. I never had a brother, you know. You can be sure as shit that if _I_ was lucky enough to have brothers like Percy, I'd play Quidditch with them every day."

Charlie smiled, taking one final shot on Oliver. "I'm sure you would. But c'mon now though, it's getting dark and McGonagall will be in a right state if we lose Gryffindor any more points for being out here."

Oliver cringed as the two boys zoomed to the ground. After he and Percy had lost Gryffindor House eighty points in one day for their shenanigans last October, the lions had never recovered.

* * *

Due to the upcoming finals, the tension in Hogwarts castle hung thickly in the air. Naturally, tempers were running high as well. Oliver Wood sat at a small study carol in the library, pouring over several texts that would hopefully keep him from failing Snape's Potions exam in two days time. He couldn't afford to fail another test. It was bad enough he botched the History of Magic final, and the look on McGonagall's face after his Transfiguration practical told him he screwed that one up too. Because of this, Oliver's stomach clenched in anger when he heard Percy's whispering voice from another table.

"It was just _so_ easy, it was almost offensive!" He whispered pompously to his little Ravenclaw mates. Percy and his friends were surrounded by stacks of books, their backs hunched and heads together as they spoke. "Honestly, McGonagall could have really tried pushing us a little. And that History exam? Please. What a joke!"

Penelope nodded in agreement. "Quite right. Snape's test might be a little harder, though, but if you managed to focus in class all year, it should be okay."

"Agreed. It definitely won't be a breeze, but it'll be quite doable for us. I'm not so sure about the rest of the dunderheads in our year, particularly in _my_ house." Percy said smugly and his words were met with snickers from the Ravenclaws.

Oliver's temper boiled over. He jumped out of his seat and ran over to Percy, knocking him to the floor. "If you want to be a Ravenclaw so badly, why don't you go to Flitwick and beg to can change houses? Merlin knows we don't want you in Gryffindor!"

Though skinny and bookish, Percy wasn't going to allow Oliver to push him around. He bucked the brunette off of him, drawing his wand as he got to his knees. "Watch it, Wood, I'm every bit the Gryffindor you are."

"Hardly," Wood sneered. "No one in Gryffindor likes you! Not even your own brother! Yeah, that's right. Charlie. He told me so last week when we were flying. Said he wished you were more like me!"

Oliver watched with satisfaction as Percy's eyes widened and filled with hurt. The Ravenclaws watched him in horrified silence. But the redhead didn't get a chance to respond because Madam Pince swooped down on them, wand raised. "_Out_!" she hissed, jinxing a pile of textbooks to snap at them and chase them from the library.

Once outside and safely away from the jaws of the textbooks, Oliver squared off to Percy, expecting round two. He was shocked to see tears in the other boy's eyes. Without a comment, Percy shook his head at Oliver, turned and walked away. His nemesis had capitalized on something that hurt Percy more than he let on. Charlie lived and breathed flying, so Percy's lack of ability and interest in the activity made it so the boys had little in common. Percy had no doubt Charlie loved him, but he wanted his brother to be proud of him as well. Heck, even Ginny had Charlie's respect. Last summer, the little girl managed to hover on her toy broomstick. Her brothers were delighted and he could still remember the look of pride on Charlie's face as he whooped in delight beside her.

"Weasley, hey Weasley! What gives?" Oliver called at Percy's retreating back.

"Shove it, Wood," Percy snapped over his shoulder, his footsteps echoing heavily as he marched down the cavernous corridor.

Oliver stood silently outside the library door, hands still balled into fists, breathing heavily. He watched Percy round the corner and disappear out of sight. Gradually, Percy's footfalls faded away. Shrugging his shoulders dismissively, he turned back to the library, hoping Madam Pince would give him a second chance rather than jinx her feather duster to box his ears.

* * *

School was out for the summer and by the second week of the holidays, Percy had developed the perfect plan to both humiliate Oliver _and_ get his brother Charlie to like him more. So one beautiful morning in early July, Percy donned a breathable pair of workout robes and made his way to the kitchen. As always, the Weasley kitchen was in full-scale chaos. The ten year-old twins were flinging bits of egg at each other with their spoons while Ron and Ginny giggled delightedly. Bill and Arthur talked loudly over job prospects at Gringotts bank, or something of the sort, while Molly was busy frying more and more eggs and bacon for her brood. The Wizarding Wireless Network blasted noisily in the background.

Percy slid into a seat beside Charlie, who'd finished his breakfast already and was trimming the twigs on his Cleansweep Five. His parents bought him the broom in anticipation of his inevitable appointment as Prefect and Quidditch Captain next term. Feeling eyes on him, Charlie looked up to find Percy staring.

"Wotcher, Perce," he said, adopting the expression of his friend Tonks from Hufflepuff House.

Percy smiled, choosing his words carefully. "Um, I've been wondering if…if maybe you could teach me how to play Quidditch?"

Charlie's mouth dropped open at the request. It was the last thing he ever expected Percy to say. Fred and George paused from their antics to clasp their hands over their hearts. They stumbled backwards and dramatically fell to the floor.

"Do mine ears deceive me?" George gasped, mock-struggling to climb back into his chair. "P-Percy wants—"

"—to _fly_?" Fred finished. He'd pulled himself to a sitting position while George fell off his chair again. "Medic!" he hollered, scrambling to George's side and fumbling for a pulse. "Someone call a medic; my brother's dying of _shock_!"

"That's enough," Molly chastised, stepping over her twin sons, a fresh platter of bangers and mash levitating before her.

Charlie beamed at his little brother. "Brilliant, Perce," he said. "I'd be delighted to teach you. Eat up a good breakfast and we'll take it outside." For the first time in a while, the second oldest Weasley smiled fondly at his little brother, looking like Christmas had come early.

* * *

Quidditch lessons started out a disaster. Percy could barely fly, having only grasped the basics in school just enough to pass the flying class. He was by no means a natural. But Percy was dedicated, and every morning he and Charlie flew around for a few hours, rain or shine. But then one day, everything fell into place. Percy was now flipping and tumbling through the air with elegance and grace. Charlie was amazed at his brother's progress. He watched Percy somersault and turn, no longer fearful of going upside-down. He saw Percy stand up on his stirrups, grasping the handle with only one hand as he veered sideways, zooming right for Charlie. The older boy smirked and barrel rolled, just barely getting out of Percy's way.

"Wow, brother, you've gotten good!" he praised, righting himself and reaching out to high-five his brother. "Comfort and ease on your broomstick is essential for playing Quidditch. If you're focusing all your attention on staying on your broom, you're not going to be able to focus on the game. Trust me, the last thing you need is to get socked by a Bludger because you can't stay balanced. Now, let's go down and get a quick drink. I'm so thirsty."

The two boys plummeted to the ground, eagerly filling the two cups with the ice water that Molly had set outside for them. Percy sighed in relief as the water slid down his throat, cooling him down wonderfully on this hot, late-July day.

"I'm so proud of you, little brother," Charlie told him, splashing a refreshing cupful of water over his face before downing another. "Now tell me, which position do you want to learn to play?"

Percy smiled slyly, an image of Oliver Wood's face briefly crossing him mind. He took another sip of water and looked up at Charlie.

"Keeper."

* * *

Charlie and Percy continued a wonderful relationship that summer. Through the month of August, Percy worked diligently to become the best Keeper he could be. Charlie was stunned by his brother's dedication. Never once in his life had Percy showed a remote interest in watching Quidditch, let alone playing it. Now, all of the sudden, it seemed to be the most important thing to his little brother. If Charlie wondered where the newfound desire to master Quidditch came from, he never asked, and chose to simply relish in his brother's belated change of heart.

A few weeks later, the three elder Weasley boys were back in Hogwarts. As he settled into his second year classes, Percy tried his best to ignore Oliver, though he couldn't help noticing that the brunette had gotten even more muscular over the summer. Oliver, in turn, noticed Percy was still a skinny string bean, though it was clear that the redhead would be shooting up within the year.

Much excited chatter flitted about the castle during the second week of the term. Quidditch sign-up sheets had been posted to the bulletins in each House common room. Excitedly, Oliver made his way to the sheet one evening, quill in hand, expecting to be the only person signing up for Keeper. Naturally, he was shocked to see another name printed neatly already; _Percy Weasley_.

"Percy Weasley!" Oliver called out, scanning the common room for his enemy. His eyes fell on the bespectacled redhead curled up in a window seat, book in hand. "Someone's pranking you, Weasley. You're name's on the Quidditch sign-up."

Several people turned to face Percy. It was common knowledge in Gryffindor House that Percy did not share the flying prowess that his brother Charlie possessed. Of course, _they_ didn't know how much he'd been practicing over the summer.

"I know," Percy replied simply, marking his place in the book with his finger. "I put it there."

Oliver laughed loudly. "But you're pants at flying!"

"What's the matter? Scared of a little competition?" Percy asked, ignoring Oliver's insult. Several people went "oooh," as the listened for Oliver's response.

"It's fine, Weasley. Just don't come crying to me when I knock you off your broom." And with that, Oliver turned and stalked off to bed.

* * *

The evening of the Quidditch tryouts was cool and crisp. Thirty students surrounded Captain Charlie as he explained the order of events. Everyone would demonstrate flying abilities first before trying out for positions. Beaters would go up first, followed by Chasers. The most adept Chasers would then be taking shots on the Keepers.

When it was Percy's turn to demonstrate his flying, Oliver watched expectantly, keen on seeing the redhead embarrass himself. Of course, he was stunned to find out that the Percy Weasley in the air today was almost a different person compared to the one from last year. When Percy landed, he shot Oliver a satisfied look, content with the fact that his burly year-mate looked shaken.

When it was finally time for the Keepers to take to the air, Charlie directed them to opposite ends of the pitch. His top six Chaser prospects would be taking shots on each of the boys.

As he hovered on the right side of the pitch, Oliver breathed out heavily, assuming an agile stance on his stirrups. 'Weasley doesn't have a chance,' he told himself, focusing on the movements of the Chasers bearing down on him. 'I was born to do this. He's just an imitator.' His eyes narrowed on the Chaser with the ball. The boy's stance on his broomstick gave his plan away instantly. Oliver easily moved into position to catch his pathetic attempt at a goal. With a smirk, he tossed the Quaffle back to the Chasers. 'One save down,' he told himself proudly.

On the other end of the pitch, Percy hovered stoically, eyes trained on the Chasers. If he made the team, he'd _ruin_ Oliver. Everyone knew how much Quidditch meant to the brunette. The thought of crushing his dreams made Percy smile, and when one of the Chasers pelted the Quaffle at his goal, he spun in the air and whacked it away with his broomtail. Oliver watched and gritted his teeth and Percy's well-played save.

On and on the tryouts went. Both potential Keepers lost track of who had the most saves, for the Quaffles kept coming and coming. They continued until the Chasers were completely out of breath and Charlie blew his whistle, beckoning them all to the ground. Upon landing, Oliver and Percy exchanged one pointed look. Percy was pleased to see that Oliver looked mortified. Clearly, the cocky brunette was not confident that he made the team. Only Charlie's declaration in due time would ease his mind.

Charlie Weasley stood importantly in front of the assembled group of students, who watched him expectantly. "Well done, everybody," Charlie began, "I was very impressed with the level of talent that showed up today. Thank you for coming out. Of course, we only have room for seven people. So, with no further ado, the Gryffindor House Quidditch team for the '88-'89 school year is as follows. For the position of Beater: James Masters and Michael Quigley. For the position of Chaser: Lonnie Matthews, Leslie Rhodes and David Rosenbaum. And for the position of Keeper," Oliver and Percy waited with bated breath for Charlie's declaration.

"Oliver Wood."

Grinning like the Cheshire cat, the brunette cast a glance at Percy. Oliver was vindicated. He was the better player and the better choice for Keeper. Even Weasley's own brother knew that! He couldn't stop smiling as he stepped up to Charlie, accepting his official set of Quidditch robes. Meanwhile, Percy's stomach had plummeted to the ground as it filled with disappointment. He stared at the grass, trembling, refusing to look his older brother in the eye.

Oliver Wood had won again.

* * *

**Too bad this story isn't a crowd pleaser, but hey, I'm enjoying it! Thank you to those who reviewed—that means you, Wetstar!—and to the few who favorite and alerted. I do appreciate it.**


	4. Chapter 4--Reveling

**AN:** It's not a good idea to enjoy another person's misery. But both boys take a stab at it in this chapter.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the property of JKR

**Mixing Like Oil and Water**

**Chapter 4—Reveling**

* * *

The next few days were incredibly difficult for Percy. The harsh reality that he'd been bested by his nemesis stung him to the core, but worse, even, was the fact that his own brother had made it happen. Percy refused to talk to Charlie after the tryouts, even when the elder Weasley cornered him in the Great Hall. Percy just snapped at him, a stony look in his eyes, before pushing past Charlie and heading for his dorm room. He was so angry that night that he practically threw himself into the chair in front of his desk. He snatched his Charms text from his trunk and slammed it down on the desk top. As he angrily thumbed through the pages, he barely noticed Oliver sidle up beside him.

"Hey Weasley!" he said brightly. "Like my new Quidditch robes?" He brandished the crimson and gold material under Percy's nose, causing the smaller boy to lose his place in his book.

"They're lovely," Percy responded wryly without looking up. His mind's eye was being cruel, depicting an image of Charlie ruffling Oliver's hair fondly, the Quidditch cup hoisted between them.

"Sorry you didn't make the team, Weasley," Oliver said, though he didn't sound sorry at all. He slung a heavy arm around Percy's shoulders, and the redhead froze. "Suppose it's all for the best, though…gotta leave the pitch to the true talent after all!"

Percy stiffened, praying for patience, but he was still a twelve year-old at the end of the day.

"Shove it, Wood!"

Oliver beamed, pleased with himself at successfully tormenting Percy. "Hey, relax, Weasel, I'm only playing! Untwist your knickers, will you?"

Anger bubbling just below the surface, Percy trembled with rage. Oliver's devilish grin and teasing eyes sent the redhead over the edge. Without thinking, his hand tightened on his textbook, and in one fluid movement, he hurled it at Oliver's head. Oliver was fortunate enough to be standing in the doorway at the time of the assault. He slammed the door shut as the book crashed into the exact spot where his face had been moments ago. A beat passed before the door flew back open, revealing a very irate Oliver Wood. He crouched to collect the book.

"Better keep studying, Weasley! Wouldn't want to see you be bested in school _and_ in Quidditch!" he launched the book back at Percy with much more force that the redhead was able to muster.

"Whoa!" Percy leaned back just in time to see the book whiz in front of his face. It smashed into the wall behind his desk. The impact ripped the binding, and the pages exploded out like a white could before fluttering helplessly to the floor. Percy's eyes widened at the sight of his ruined book. Even Oliver looked apologetic.

"Hey, mate, I didn't mean—"

But Percy was having none of it. "Get out of here, Wood!"

He fumbled for his wand and his anger emitted several angry-looking silver sparks from the tip. They hit the Gryffindor pennant flag hanging above Percy's bed, and an alarming bit of magic caused the flag to fold itself into a missile of sorts. It shot straight for Oliver's head and he managed to duck as the pennant whistled by his ear. He stumbled backwards, watching the flag turn a loop in the air and hone in on him again.

"You're mental, Weasley!" yelped Oliver as he bobbed and weaved his way to the door. "Call it off, will you!"

A loud laugh erupted from Percy as he shook his head 'no.' It was all he could do to not clap with glee as the weaponized pennant continued its assault on Oliver. Finally, the brunette managed to collect his broom and robes and sprint from the room. As soon as the door slammed, the pennant crashed into it, effectively ending the spell. It fluttered to the floor, once again a harmless flag.

As he made to collect his pennant and repair his ruined textbook, Percy couldn't help feeling more lighthearted than he had in days.

* * *

His happy feeling didn't last long. The sound of his dorm room door opening again snapped Percy back to reality. He expected to find Oliver returning for round three, but was surprised to see his brother Bill instead. Red hair to his shoulders and with the gangling body that Percy was sure to inherit, Bill smiled concernedly at his little brother. "Hey Perce, can I come in?"

"Guess so," he muttered, jabbing his wand at his textbook and a few more pages fluttered back into position.

Bill cocked an eyebrow at his little brother, who was sitting amid what looked like an exploded textbook. He didn't say anything, but chose to flop down on Percy's bed instead. His long legs dangled off the end, and he idly noted how fortunate he was to have a king-sized bed in the Head Boy's private quarters.

"Charlie's worried about you, you know," he began after a long pause. When Percy didn't answer, he closed his eyes and continued. "Said he's tried talking to you several times, but no joy. Said he cornered you in the Great Hall earlier and you told him you were no longer his brother."

Percy gripped a few pages too tightly, creasing them. "Well…it's true, isn't it? What he did was very un-brotherly!"

"And why's that?" Bill asked gently.

"Because…because he picked Oliver over me." Percy was aware he sounded somewhat childish. Ignoring his book, he wrapped his arms around himself defensively. "I played really well—just as well as Oliver, even—and Charlie _still_ didn't pick me! But I guess I shouldn't be surprised, really." He turned his back to Bill, his defiant posture melting into rejection. "Charlie already said he wished _Oliver_ was his brother instead of me!"

Bill couldn't stifle his snort and Percy shot him a very scandalized look.

"Are you _laughing_ at me?" The younger Weasley demanded. He drew himself up pompously and glared.

"No, no, of course not." But the quaver in his voice gave him away. "Look Perce, I don't know what Charlie said or didn't say, but I can assure you of one thing: he would never wish for you to be anyone else—"

"—Except maybe Oliver—" Percy interjected irritably.

"—He'd never wish you to be anyone else, _including_ Oliver Wood." Bill slid off the bed and settled on the floor near Percy. He took out his wand and helped mend torn pages and fix them back into the binding.

Percy sat back, letting Bill do all the work on the book. "His actions speak louder than words." he retorted.

Bill sighed, smoothing the creased pages with his wand. "Listen Perce, I'm going to be honest with you…out of the two of you, Oliver was the better Keeper."

"What, you too?" Percy looked even more scandalized than before. His eyes narrowed in anger and betrayal. "Get out of my room then, if that's the way it's gonna be!"

Bill chuckled and extended a long arm. His hand closed around one of Percy's balled-up fists and he pulled the younger boy towards him. He protested gently, but allowed Bill to settle him comfortably against his side. They leaned against Percy's four-poster bed, Bill's arm slung caringly and protectively around Percy's shoulders. Some of Percy's anger melted away as he rested his head on Bill's shoulder.

"You have a lot of things going for you that Oliver doesn't, Perce," Bill said, giving his brother a gentle shake. "I know it seems like sports and popularity are the most important things at your age, but you have something better. You have a brain in your skull that will take you far; maybe rank you high in the Ministry one day, if you so desire. Best Oliver can hope for is that he makes enough money before he takes one Bludger too many and succumbs to brain damage!"

In spite of himself, Percy laughed out loud, feeling like if there was any justice in the world, Oliver _would_ get injured.

"Didn't know you had such a vindictive side to you," Bill teased. He ruffled Percy's hair and flicked a lens on his horn-rimmed glasses. "And in all seriousness, Oliver was made to play Quidditch. But you are destined for greater things."

Percy huffed as Bill released him from his side. The two boys leaned forward to work on the book a bit more. They were silent for a moment but then Bill glanced at Percy from the corner of his eye. "By the way, Perce, I know you only preoccupied yourself with Quidditch this summer so you could hurt Oliver." Percy flushed red and he continued. "You purposely tried out for Oliver's position; one he's been very vocal about wanting since he got here. You didn't want to play because you love the game. You wanted to play so Oliver couldn't."

Percy wrung his hand feeling highly embarrassed. "Well, yes, but…that's not it entirely! I also wanted to get closer to Charlie. I-I wanted him to like me more."

Bill put the finishing touches on the Charms book and it looked good as new. "You don't have to try to be Oliver Wood to get Charlie to like you. Just be yourself, even if you are a complete prat at times."

"Hey!" Percy objected, but his traitorous smile gave away his real feelings.

"Best thing you can do is be supportive of Charlie and his Quidditch team. He picked his team in hopes that it would give Gryffindor the best shot at winning. It's not about you or Oliver or anyone. It's nothing personal, really. It's about winning the game."

"Yes, yes, I get it," Percy sighed, accepting the repaired Charms book from Bill. "And thanks for your help with this."

"Just doing my duty as oldest brother," Bill grinned, getting up and heading for the door. He grumbled something about a staff meeting that the Head Boy and Girl needed to attend before bidding Percy good night.

* * *

Oliver basked in his newfound popularity in the weeks following his appointment as Gryffindor Keeper. By October, the entire school knew his name, and with that came loads of new friends. He'd also caught the attention of several pretty girls, including older ones and ones from different houses. It was all very exciting, to have a fifth year bat her eyelashes and greet him by name.

People were definitely nicer to him on account of his Quidditch prowess. Some of the Prefects would look the other way if he was out past curfew. Even Professor McGonagall gave him preferential treatment. During one class, she looked the other way when he handed in an essay that was a day late and a foot short. "This is disappointing, Wood," she said, gesturing to the rather pathetic scroll. She fixed him with a stern glare. "I daresay you've been using the time you should have spent studying to play Quidditch?"

"I—yes," he balked, feeling small under her sharp gaze.

"Good." Her expression softened and she gave him a rare smile. "We need to start the season with a win. Do try, will you, Wood? And don't let _this_ happen again." She gave the offending essay one last shake.

"Of course, Professor," he replied sweetly, emboldened by her smile. He put on the most dazzling smile he could muster. He knew most people responded quite well to his impish little face, but the return of McGonagall's no-nonsense countenance told him he was pushing his luck. "I—er—_ahem_. I'll do better on the next essay, I swear, Professor."

But as practices continued, it became apparent that the Gryffindor Quidditch team wasn't as lustrous as predicted. The Chasers were all NEWT-level students, and once classes picked up, they had a hard time focusing on more important things like Quidditch. The Beaters, on the other hand, were young and stupid. One evening, Oliver watched a Bludger chase Beater Quigley around the pitch. "Come on, Michael, you have a bat for crying out loud! Use it!" Charlie hollered after him. Oliver just rolled his eyes.

By the time the weekend of the first Quidditch match rolled around, Oliver was downright nervous. He would never admit it to anyone during the day, but at night, when he was alone in his four-poster, all of his fears seemed to needle him. _'You suck, Wood! You're a garbage Keeper! You're in over your head!_' The negative thoughts kept taunting and taunting him. '_Charlie should have gone with _Percy_ instead!_'

That last thought broke his resolve and to his horror, he felt his eyes burn as hot tears slid down his cheeks. Oliver huddled up into a ball and drew his duvet under his chin. His face burned in shame as he wept, grateful for the darkness in his room so that nobody could see him being week. He held a firm hand over his mouth, trying to stifle the tell-tale hiccups and splutters that could surely wake his roommates. But after some time, the not-so-tough Keeper drifted into a very uneasy sleep interrupted often by Quidditch-related nightmares.

* * *

Only one other second year was awake in the dorm. On the other side of the room, Percy Weasley lay on his side, staring at the closed hangings around Oliver's bed. If he didn't know any better, he'd say Oliver Wood was crying! But of course, Oliver didn't cry, did he? A small gasp and a shaky breath from his enemy's bed were enough to quirk Percy's eyebrow. Surely it must be something else…

"Please…let me do well tomorrow. Please." There was no mistaking Oliver's quaking whisper.

Percy rolled onto his other side, a grin plastered across his face. For the last year and a quarter, all Oliver wanted was to play Keeper for Gryffindor. Now he'd gotten his wish and the night before the big match, he was crying! Percy hugged his pillow and fell into a very restful sleep.

He had been vindicated.

* * *

**As far as I'm concerned, tt's not right to revel in someone else's misery.**


	5. Chapter 5--Wishes

**AN:** I know Gryffindor typically plays Slytherin in their first Quidditch match of the year, but since Slytherin usually gets all of the glory, I thought it would be fun to let another house have a chance. So Gryffindor will be playing Hufflepuff.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the property of JKR

**Mixing Like Oil and Water**

**Chapter 5—Wishes**

* * *

Morning light filtered into Gryffindor Tower rousing Percy from a very restful sleep. He briefly considered boycotting the Quidditch match. It would serve Charlie right if Percy refused to show up! But then the image of a very disappointed Bill swam into his mind's eye. Percy grumbled. His oldest brother was right. Percy had to recognize that Charlie's decision to appoint Oliver as Keeper was in the best interest of Gryffindor House. It was nothing personal, though that didn't do much to ease the sting of familial rejection. He'd since reconciled with his brother and knew it was important to support him in his first game as Captain. And by extension, he'd have to support Oliver too.

He glanced over to the other side of the room where Oliver was just getting up. His eyes were red and puffy, a reminder of his terrible night's sleep. Percy felt a small wave of sympathy for the other boy. Though Oliver was usually so cocky and arrogant, right now, he resembled a frightened puppy. He looked like a scared little boy, despite the fact that he was by far the biggest boy in their year. But Percy pushed the sympathy from his mind. To be Keeper was all Oliver ever wanted anyway. He wasn't going to pity anyone who got his wish.

* * *

Oliver couldn't understand why he was so nervous. All his life, he looked forward to playing Quidditch for his house team, and now that he was living the dream, the stress was getting to him. He dressed quickly and stumbled down to breakfast in the Great Hall, which was abuzz with activity and energy. Nearly the entire school was up, eagerly talking and taking bets on the coming match. Oliver was cheered by some and catcalled by others as he slid into a seat at the Gryffindor table beside his teammates. Charlie gave him a smile, but Oliver didn't miss the haggard expression on the fifth year's face. Charlie had had a rough week. It seemed the catcalling and trash talking was ten times worse for the team captain.

"Hey Oliver, best eat up," said Chaser Lonnie Matthews with a warm smile as she loaded Oliver's plate with eggs and toast. She was a seventh year, and despite being a rather crappy Chaser, she was a very calm person, and she never batted an eye at any taunts thrown at her.

Once his whole team was assembled, Charlie wasted no time jumping into an impromptu meeting. "Listen guys, I just got word that Hufflepuff made some last-minute changes to their lineup. New Beaters. I don't know the reason for the switch, but I can tell you one thing. One of them's a girl. Don't know why they're using a girl Beater—"

"Hey!" Lonnie protested.

"Not that girls don't make good Beaters!" he added hastily. "It's just not conventional, that's all. Anyways, we don't really know what we're dealing with. But word in Herbology is that she's planning on taking Oliver out."

Oliver nearly choked and another Chaser, David Rosembaum, whacked him on the back and asked, "What? _Why_?"

"Hufflepuff's Chasers are garbage. They'll be trying _any_ tactic to make scoring easier…even if it's violent. Listen, our best option right now is to do a sprint. Go full energy and full force from the very beginning. I'll be going for a quick Snitch capture. The sooner we get this thing over with, the better."

The team nodded stoically as Charlie reviewed some defensive strategies with the Beaters on how they could better protect Oliver. The young Keeper spent the rest of breakfast in silence, wondering how he was going to survive with a target pinned to his back.

* * *

The noise level in the Great Hall rose to a near deafening din until it was time to head to the pitch. Percy met up with Penelope on the lawn. His Ravenclaw friend was all decked out in Gryffindor red herself, complete with a giant crimson bow in her hair.

"You're looking lovely today," he told her politely. She beamed at him and as they climbed the stairs to the stands, they discussed Gryffindor's prospects in the coming match. When she mentioned Oliver's name, Percy's face visibly darkened.

"You don't still hate Oliver, do you?" she asked slowly as they found good seats near midfield. "He's really not _that_ bad."

"You're only saying that because you fancy him," Percy retorted. "And he really _is_ that bad."

"I do not!" Penelope cried, but the twinge of color in her cheeks gave her away. Percy smirked at her. He didn't hold it against her that she fancied Oliver. Most of the girls did anyway. Oliver was the biggest, handsomest and most athletic boy in their year.

"Yeah, yeah, it's okay if you fancy him. As for me, I hope someone knocks him off his broom. It would serve him right for being such a complete twat—"

"_Percy!_" Penelope gasped. "Wherever did you learn such _foul_ language?"

Now it was Percy's turn to blush. He made the mental note to be more in control of him tongue in the future. He was about to apologize when Penelope punched him playfully on the arm and pointed down to the team entrances. Seven crimson-clad Gryffindors entered from the right while the Hufflepuffs in canary yellow came from the left. "It's starting!" she squealed excitedly, bouncing on her heels.

* * *

The roar of the crowd pumped adrenaline through Oliver Wood's veins. This was it, it was happening. He was a real Quidditch player now, not just some kid with a dream. He swept his eyes around the stands, taking in all the crimson supporters. Then his eyes lingered on Charlie, who shook hands with the Hufflepuff captain. When Madam Hooch's whistle sounded, he kicked off hard and zoomed to his posts. This was his job, his calling. He would defend these goals with his life!

Lonnie Matthews gained first possession, but she bungled a pass to Rosenbaum, and the Quaffle was intercepted by a tiny Hufflepuff Chaser. She was very speedy as she streaked up the pitch to Oliver, but he was ready for her. When she cut left, he barrel-rolled with her. Her attempt to score was swiftly denied by a whack of his broom tail.

He passed the Quaffle to Rosenbaum, but he was triple-teamed by Hufflepuff's Chasers and lost the ball. Oliver turned a forward somersault during Hufflepuff's next scoring attempt and kicked the Quaffle back into Rosenbaum's hands. He reveled in the cheers from the Gryffindor supporters, who were beside themselves with his two back-to-back saves.

Oliver hovered in front of his posts, using the time when his teammates had possession of the Quaffle to scope out the new—and allegedly murderous—female Beater. And when he found her, he laughed out loud. She was lurking on the Hufflepuff end of the pitch, and if it wasn't for the heavy bat in her hand, he would have probably missed her all together. She wasn't some hulking, mountain of a woman like he'd expected her to be. Instead, she was a tiny little blonde thing who looked very much out of place on the pitch. Oliver scoffed and turned a back flip to let off steam. '_Planning to take me out, indeed!_' he laughed to himself, remembering Charlie's words. '_Let's see her try!_'

The sound of a gong snapped Oliver back to reality. Gryffindor's Leslie Rhodes had scored, putting Gryffindor on the board! He whooped loudly, squaring off to face the incoming Hufflepuff Chasers with confidence. He was grinning when one of the Chasers tried to take a shot on him. '_That move is _so _obvious! Pathetic!_' Oliver moved into position to intercept the Quaffle, but that's when the pain exploded on the side of his head.

Dizzily, he looked to his right. There she was, that Hufflepuff Beater. She was hovering a good twenty yards away, her raised bat now looking like an extension of her arm. Wearily, Oliver gently touched his face, only to find his hand bathed in blood when he took it away. A buzzing noise grew louder in his ears as he slumped forward on his broom, not even realizing that he was in mortal danger. The last thing he remembered before the world going completely dim was the sound of the gong as Hufflepuff scored.

* * *

"_Merlin's beard!_"

"Oh my goodness, is he _dead_?"

"Somebody save him!"

Anxious chatter erupted across the stands as the fans watched Oliver Wood tumble forward on his broom and spiral towards the ground. That little Hufflepuff Beater had come out of nowhere and sent a Bludger right into the side of Oliver's skull. Those who stood nearer to the Gryffindor goal posts could swear they heard his skull crack.

A good thirty feet off the ground, Oliver finally slipped off his broom. The crowed released a collective gasp of horror. Luckily, Madam Hooch was a quick thinker and she conjured a mattress below the plummeting Keeper right in the nick of time. He bounced on the squashy mattress, leaving behind a very fatal-looking bloodstain.

Somewhere along midfield, Penelope Clearwater had gripped onto Percy's arm tightly; he was losing all feeling in his fingertips. The watched in horror as Madam Pomfrey stormed the pitch, conjuring a gurney and levitating Oliver's lifeless body onto it. As she brought him up to the castle, Percy turned to look at his Ravenclaw companion.

"Do you think he's…" Penelope began, but she was unable to finish the thought. But then something evidently crossed her mind, something that made her angry, because she released Percy's arm with a shove. Her eyes darkened. "Are you happy now, Percy?" she hissed.

Stunned at her behavior, Percy balked. "I—_what_?"

"You said you hoped someone knocked him off his broom. Now it's happened! So I'll repeat myself. _Are you happy now, Percy?_"

"I—I—_no!_ Of course not! I never wanted—"

But then the young Weasley felt like throwing up. Hadn't he wished for this very thing on more than one occasion? Hadn't Percy secretly hoped that this fate would befall his rival? Hadn't he laughed when Bill commented that the best Oliver could hope for in life was making a lot of money before a Bludger gave him brain damage? Hadn't Percy shared these same sentiments with Penelope not ten minutes ago? And now, what remained of Oliver seemed quite brain dead indeed. How could he have wished this fate upon anyone, even Oliver? It wasn't funny at all.

"You know that could have been _you_ down there." Penelope said coldly. "You wanted to be Keeper so badly. That could have been _you_ they were scraping off the pitch. You're disgusting, Percy Weasley, for wishing this fate on another human being. Never talk to me again!" She stamped a little foot and walked off, disappearing in the crowd of frightened spectators.

Percy remained rooted to the spot, too horrified to move. Had his malicious wishes actually brought this upon Oliver? Was there a sort of magic that made these sorts of things happen? An image of his mother's face swam into his mind. '_Be careful what you wish for, young man, because it just might come true!_' she'd said. Tears threatened him, pricking the back of his eyes. No, he hadn't meant for this to happen at all!

The distraught boy barely noticed the hand on his shoulder until it shook him. He looked up the see Bill. His brother's face was partially obscured by wind-tossed red hair. "Come along now, Perce."

Percy allowed himself to be led down the rickety staircases and down onto the lawn. "It's my fault," he told Bill. "I wished this upon him."

"Your wishes have no effect on reality."

But Percy didn't believe him. All he could hear was his mother's voice.

'_Be careful what you wish for…_'

* * *

**As many Oliver fans recall, in the Philosopher's Stone, Oliver tells Harry about his first ever Quidditch match. He claims that he "took a Bludger to the head within the first five minutes and woke up a week later in the Hospital Wing." That's what I've based this on.**


	6. Chapter 6--The Dream

**AN: WARNING: **In this chapter, we encounter the glorious act of **masturbation**, and since the boys are only twelve, it is **NOT** meant to be smutty or arousing, but instead, rather amusing. Anybody who has had experience talking to or interacting with an adolescent male (or female—we're not so special ourselves) should understand this completely.

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to JKR.

**Mixing Like Oil and Water**

**Chapter 6—The Dream **

* * *

A very bemused Oliver Wood opened his bleary eyes, an aching pain throbbing away at his face like he'd been clubbed upside the head by a mountain troll. What the heck had happened to him? He vaguely recalled something about a Quidditch match, but since he couldn't find his broom anywhere, he figured that was some sort of fabrication in his mind. But that witch standing nearby him wasn't a fabrication. That was a fact.

"Madam Pomfrey?" He asked, barely recognizing his own croaky voice.

The witch jumped, clasping a hand over her heart. "Merlin's beard, Mr. Wood, you nearly startled the magic out of me!"

Oliver tried to smile weakly, becoming vaguely aware that he was in very flimsy hospital gown. "What…what happened?"

Before she told him anything, she force-fed his three vials of nasty tasting potion and sat at his bedside to make sure he didn't vomit them back up. Then she filled him in. Evidently, he'd suffered one of the most horrific Quidditch accidents in Hogwarts history. Madam Pomfrey needed Skele-Gro to repair his zygomatic arch, whatever _that_ was. Apparently, he'd been out of commission for an entire _week_ following the accident. Gryffindor, he learned, had also suffered a horrendous loss; the margin by which was so vast that Madam Pomfrey refused to disclose it for fear of subjecting Oliver to undue stress. But that wasn't even the worst bit of news. No, Debbie Zeller topped that chart, for she was the tiny Hufflepuff Beater who'd delivered the fateful blow.

"For what it's worth, she feels awful about it," Madam Pomfrey said, pointing to a hand-drawn card on Oliver's bedside table.

He snatched it and turned it over in his hands. Flashing gold letters reading '_I_ _am SO sorry, Oliver, please forgive me!_' emblazoned the card. Beneath it, '_Debbie Zeller_' was scrawled in that ridiculous loopy writing the girls always used.

"Feels awful about it, does she?" Oliver growled as he ripped the stupid card to shreds.

Sensing that talk-time had come to an end, Madam Pomfrey patted Oliver's knee. "Try to get some rest, will you, Mr. Wood?"

* * *

And rest he did. Not ten minutes later, Oliver Wood fell fast asleep and was having a dream. And not just any dream. This was one of those _good_ dreams; the ones he'd only get every so often. Especially ever since he'd sprouted hair down there.

He didn't know why he was dreaming of Lonnie Matthews, but for whatever reason, his Quidditch teammate was leaning against his dorm room door frame, licking her lips and eyeing him suggestively. Apparently, Lonnie Matthews didn't know how to do buttons, for if she did, her breasts wouldn't be spilling out of her blouse. '_Oh Oliver,_' she breathed, her voice throaty and seductive. '_I'm so happy you survived that Bludger attack. I was so scared you might die!_' She crossed the room and climbed onto his bed, her skirt riding further and further up her thigh as she crawled over to him. '_Oliver, I know I'm a seventh year and you're a second year, but I don't care! I want you!_' She straddled Oliver's hips and tugged her ponytail loose so waves of jet-black hair cascaded down her shoulders. '_Do you want me?_' she questioned, eyeing him pleadingly. He replied with a very smooth and suave line that doubtlessly sent shivers down her spine. And next thing he knew, the beautiful seventh year was leaning down to snog him while his hands found their way up her blouse.

He was getting to second base with Lonnie Matthews and it was _brilliant_.

* * *

Percy didn't know why Professor McGonagall insisted on torturing him, but he wasn't about to say 'no' to her request. It just wasn't his style to look bad in the eyes of authority. But when she'd pushed that stack of parchment across her desk at him with a curt "Take these missing assignments to Mr. Wood, Weasley," Percy had to suppress a groan. Of course, when news spread to the student body that Oliver Wood had woken up and was indeed not dead, Percy's guilt was assuaged. But that didn't mean he wanted to spend any time with the Keeper.

But he'd lied pompously anyway. "No problem, Professor McGonagall, I'd be happy to take Oliver his assignments." It wasn't like he had anything better to do anyway. Penelope Clearwater still wasn't speaking to him, and out of loyalty, neither were the other Ravenclaws.

So Percy collected the stack of assignments and marched to the Infirmary, where he found the curtains drawn around the bed of the ward's lone occupant. He looked around for Madam Pomfrey and when he didn't find her, he figured she must be in her office or a backroom somewhere. So he crossed the ward, hoping Oliver was asleep so he could just drop the assignments on the bedside table and be done with it.

But when he pulled back the curtains, he was completely and utterly unprepared to handle the spectacle before him.

Oliver Wood lay sprawled on his back, his flimsy hospital gown hiked up to his waist, a thin sheen of sweat covering his body. He most certainly _was_ asleep, as Percy had hoped, but not in the silent, still kind of sleep he'd expected. No, instead, Oliver's hand was between his legs, just barely covering his modesty as he unconsciously played with his stiffening member. He was mumbling something too. Something that sounded an awful lot like, "Oh yeah Lonnie, you like that?"

Percy's jaw almost hit the floor. '_Lonnie?_' he wondered. '_As in Lonnie Matthews, the seventh year?_' Percy positively gaped. He knew he should look away. There was no question about that; he shouldn't be seeing this. But for some reason, he was rooted to the spot, watching Oliver's hand bob rapidly up and down over his crotch. So Percy stared silently, not even daring to breathe, his eyes glued to where they shouldn't be.

It was, of course, a complete accident when the stack of parchment slipped from his fingers and hit the floor. Percy panicked. He'd roomed with Oliver long enough to know the brunette was a light sleeper. When Oliver's brown eyes fluttered open, he startled, gasping audibly when he noticed Percy.

"What?—_Weasley_!" Oliver nearly jumped out of his skin as he scrambled backwards against the barred headboard. With white knuckles, he fumbled to pull his hospital gown over his crotch. "What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?" His face had turned a ghastly shade of crimson; a color typically only reserved for the Weasleys.

"I-I-I—" Percy spluttered, blanching at the foul language.

"You, you, you!" Oliver mocked, gathering his bed sheet around his waist as he made to stand up. "You better get the fuck out of my sight, Weasley, or they'll pulling what's left of your mangled body down from the rafters!"

Percy stumbled backwards into the curtain, pulling them right off the runners. "I-I-I, please! I only mean to bring you your homework!" he hollered.

Oliver was on his feet now, one hand clutching the sheet around his waist, the other finding his wand and pointing it at the redhead's jugular. "I should hex you to oblivion, I should! Give me one good reason not to!"

"Because!" Percy shrieked, desperately trying to disentangle himself from the curtains. "Because if you do, I'll…" He gulped, gathering his courage. "_I'll tell everyone what I saw!_"

Oliver froze. His face, if possible, flushed an even angrier shade of red. He fumed, but didn't lower his wand.

Sensing he had the upper hand, Percy continued. "Yes, that's right. I'll tell everyone I caught you _fondling_ yourself over Lonnie Matthews!"

In an instant, Oliver's face went from red to white. When he spoke, his voice was weaker; he knew he was trapped. "H-How did you know…?"

"Because you said her name. Now lower your wand." Oliver complied and Percy picked himself off the floor and dusted his robes.

A beat passed. The two boys stared each other down; one tangled up in a mess of curtains, the other clutching a sheet around his hips. The immediate flare of anger had dissipated from the atmosphere, but the tension still lingered. Soon the tension morphed into an overbearing awkwardness.

Percy scratched his head nervously, finally able to stand up. "Er—alright then. I've…brought you your homework," he gestured lamely to the mess of parchment on the floor.

"I see that." Oliver deadpanned.

"And what do you say?"

"Don't push your luck, Weasley," he replied with narrowed eyes.

"Right, then," Percy said stiffly, clearing his throat. "Well—er—I'm glad to see you're doing better and I guess I'll just…you know…see you in class—"

"_Get the fuck out, Weasley!_" Oliver exploded, his anger returning full force, his yell cutting off Percy's ramble.

They held each other's hate-filled gaze for another moment until Percy gave a miniscule nod and turned to leave. But he wasn't quite at the door when he heard Oliver's last comment. It was spoken under his breath; not meant for Percy's ears.

"You _will_ play for this, Weasley. Mark my words. What goes around comes around."

* * *

**Ahh, I had a lot of fun with this chapter. Hope nobody was too offended. Thanks, also, to the six of you who've reviewed. Makes my day, it does. **


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